


I Don't Need

by helena_s_renn



Series: Love and Affection [1]
Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mentions of het, Rude boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: Joe ends another affair, and struggles to express what he needs and doesn't need - and from whom.





	I Don't Need

**Author's Note:**

> Joe's kind of a dick for some of this. I've also committed the sin of using Rick as the third wheel.
> 
> Thanks to Christian.Howe for preliminary beta. I should probably apologize for the evolution. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

-1985

When Joe stalked into the house, blond mullet in full flagship mode, Sav and Rick exchanged a look. They knew the signs. Another affair had fallen by the wayside. Rick just happened to be there, as he had told Sav earlier upon arriving, to clear his head from non-stop practice in the tiny room his electronic-wired kit was set up in. The day was warm, both of them shirtless with beers in hand.

"What is it with these women? Should just get it on with each other! They want too much, every one of them." Joe was pacing and bitching. He really knew how to pick them. Always ended in so much dramatic bullshit. On and on.

"So write a song," Rick jumped in, ever ready to put pique to good use. "Tell 'em off, give 'em a right talking to." 

"Maybe I should. About all the things I don't need or want from them." 

Picking up a pen from the coffee table, Rick flipped over a napkin to write on. "Such as...?" 

"Love." 

"Oh, okay. So you don't need love." This sounded dubious. 

"Not from them," muttered a third voice. Joe and Rick looked over at Sav, who was sprawled on the couch, playing with the line of fuzz below his navel. He looked up and grinned at them, totally unapologetic. "Public displays of affection?" he suggested.

Rick snorted. "You mean pubic displays?" 

"No, I mean PDA." 

"Well, neither go in a song. Just 'affection'," Joe asserted. "Which I don't need, either." 

"See there? It's already writing itself," Rick put in, reassuring. 

"You know what bothers me the worst?" asked Joe, irritated, starting up again. The other two shrugged. Best to just let him rant. "They always say they wanna _understand_ me. Like I'm their pet project. Fucking hell, I haven't got meself figured out, how could they? So I don't need that either." 

Rick scribbled away. "Yeah? What else?"

"Well... that business about giving me their hearts. I want a night, not the full fucking fairy tale." 

"You just want what's between their thighs," Sav narrowed his eyes, then dipped them. "And they get..." 

"Oh, like you don't pack a pair of jeans," Joe huffed, eyes moving down as well. 

"Shut up."

"They want the same from you." Or any of them.

"Yeah, well, I know what's expected." Sav gestured at himself, up and down the length of his body. "The good thing is, I can be as picky as I want. So I am," he stared steadily, unflinchingly, at Joe. 

"'What's expected?' What the fuck is that, your idea of a euphemism?" They'd just be best mates bickering if not for the sudden mutual focus. 

Shrugging, Sav slouched even further. "I date enough starlets and chick singers, none of whom question if I'm into it... That's what's expected. Should be able to get away with that for another 10, 15 years. So what's your _fucking_ problem? ED? Nymphomania?"

Rick cleared his throat, looking back and forth between the other two. This shit was getting weird. "So why do you keep shagging girls, then?" he asked Joe pointedly, though he couldn't imagine giving _that_ up. 

"You know why." 

"What, tits? Their long hair? Soft lips, silky skin?" These questions, coming from Sav's purring mouth, were meant to provoke their vocalist. A few times already, he'd had to push Joe away with an annoyed, "fuck off!" Behind closed doors, Joe had grown fascinated with Sav's nipples lately, despite the fact they were tiny, not particularly friendly and situated on a flat chest. The other features were ones Joe liked to ramble on about when he and Sav were humping and rolling around like litter-mates, also not in reference to any woman. They'd done that on tour from time to time; it meant nothing but mates giving each other a helping hand. Since sharing a house during recording the new album, though, it had continued when they had no excuses like needing to come down off a post-show adrenaline high, or trouble sleeping, or just blueballs from being away from one's woman too long. 

"Erm... is that part of the song?" Rick wanted to know. 

"Pussy, you idjits!" Joe outburst, back on his own bandwagon. He was practically jumping up and down. 

"Cunt!" Sav retorted. He was not naming body parts.

"Twat!" put in Rick, flicking the pen at Joe. 

"Yeah, whatever. The lead up, flirting, touching. Danger, forbidden fruit, till they give in and..." The rest of his explanation was wordless, and loud. Joe was not shy about making pornographic sex noises. Some past shows had featured him moaning and grinding and touching himself till the others were glad for instruments to hide behind. Even Steve stopped throwing his Gibsons around and stood still under those circumstances. 

"Suffice it say, that's not on the 'don't need it' list?" Rick wondered aloud, but Joe ignored his question. He was busy stalking over to Sav, who tried to back away but ended up embedded in the couch cushions. Nostrils flared, Sav yelped, "Holy fuck, speaking of that, get away from me, you reek like...! Go take a shower!!"

"Nuh-uh." Joe dropped into Sav's lap, while the bassist vacillated between pushing him away and not touching him, period. "Eat it or wear it!" 

Rick groaned in the background. 

"Gonna rub it all over you... it was good while it lasted but nothing like you... See? I'm learning." 

Talk about mixed signals! Leaning down, Joe snuffled under Sav's hair near his left ear, snagging the hoop in his teeth. He didn't think Sav was a woman - he'd seen him naked after all. Didn't want him to be. Hell no! What Joe needed to find some way to accept himself, in love with someone who was his match, yes, even in _that_ way. 

"Fuuuuck, stop! That's disgusting," Sav whined, wrinkling his face in distaste, at the same time grinding upwards.

"I second that! Traumatised drummer leaving now!!" Rick bolted and slammed the front door behind him. Phil and Steve were just as bad but they at least they usually gave warning. 

 

Hours later, they found the abandoned scribblings. "Well," Joe tilted his head and squinted at the chicken-scratch. "I think we may have something to work with here." 

"You seemed to have strong feelings about it," Sav replied, mild voice for a loaded statement. 

Once Joe had relented about washing, he'd got some of the things he claimed not to need. Hands that were strong and sure and demanding on him, all over him. Arms around him after that he didn't want to push away. The lead-up he had always found so necessary? He didn't know if eight years of working together and friendship counted as lead-up, but one thing was certain: he was the party who had given in, had crossed the line into what finally felt right. 

Sav allowed him to fumble his way through it, Joe shaking like a leaf. When at last he got his bearings and his rhythm, he looked down at how they joined. The view was one he wasn't used to - someone nearly his same size or close enough, male landmarks, a sudden warm spray of semen between them up to his chest. He closed his eyes and relived it rapidfire till he came with a screech four thrusts later, and Sav, afterglowing, kissed him with a languid tongue and eyes lidded to slits for what he'd swear was an hour. Never before in his life had Joe tolerated such a thing.

"...So did you, babe." 

"Don't call me that." 

"Dude?" 

"That'd be better than 'babe'." 

"Mate." 

"Mm." Sav looked over, eyes blue as the ocean on a sunny day, and Joe felt himself give in a little more to the undertow.

Fin.

(or, TBC 28 years later...)


End file.
